"Ain't got none now but this. I bought it to Mis' Hackett's. Cleena's took my others. Got 'em all in her kitchen draw'. 'Low she'll get this if you tell on me."
"I'll not need. You'll have it out to show her how talented you are, and then—away goes your pride, your jewsharp, and all."
"Hmm, she better try. I'll teach her a lesson some day she ain't goin' to ferget. That woman bosses me too much. I ain't a-goin' to stand it. You'll see. I'll clear out an' leave the whole kerboodle first you know. Sho! Here we be."
"Indeed. Well, I'm sorry to have reached the place so soon, though it is pretty cold."
"You go in and see the 'Supe's' folks. I'll ride along an' do my arrants. Cleena'd ruther trust me than you, wouldn't she? I'm a master hand for a trade, an' she knows it. Say, I do wish he'd sell me Balaam."
"You must drop that subject, really, Fayette. Even if Hallam were to part with his burro, it would not be to you."
The simple lad's fierce temper rose in full force at Amy's blunt words.
"Like to know why not? Ain't my money as good as anybody's? Ain't I 'stuck up' enough to suit? He never rode in a parade, he didn't. Told me so himself."
"Nor do I think he ever will, and, of course, one person's money is as good as another's, excepting that we could never trust how long you would be kind to dear old Balaam. Hal would take much less to have the creature well treated than—I mean—Oh, don't get so angry; it's not worth while."
The more she tried to smooth matters over, the more indignant the other became. His harp was still between such discolored teeth as Pepita's former assault had left him, and added to the grotesqueness of his appearance as he glared upon Amy. To finish what she had begun, she remarked:—